The Finer Points of Giving
by BadMomma
Summary: *Shonen ai* A discussion on the nature of gift-giving gives rise to a topic that had been left previously unresolved.  Another addition to the FF 2010 Xmas fic-catch up


The Finer Points of Giving

Warnings(?): General Relena-bodyguard-ness, friendship++, the usual suspects.

Independent one-shot

Note to readers: Sorry guys, this fic was written 2 years ago, lost in a hard drive crash and only recently recovered from a back up disc. I'm posting this along with the few others that are missing from my FF archive.

The Finer Points of Giving

The apartment door swings open suddenly, spilling light onto a quiet courtyard, grey with early morning mist. "Hey. Come on in, almost ready."

The dark haired man steps through the door and closes it behind him. He lingers idly by the entrance, checking out the detritus of his friend's daily life scattered on the small table to his left: Keys, bills, take out menus, a flyer advertising a motorcycle for sale taken from the pool hall they'd visited the previous week. "Want to stop for coffee on the way in?"

"I could make some."

"Don't be cheap."

With a chuckle, the receding voice inquires: "You're buying, then?"

"Yeah, sure," he calls back at his friend, grimacing in memory. By now he knows better than to share the 'better than drinking yours' comment his mind offers.

"Hey," drifts out at him from a room down the short hall, "are you buying me a gift?"

Puzzled, the visitor momentarily pauses in his inspection of the junk mail. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"You haven't seen the papers yet this morning?"

"No," he moves closer to the sofa, leaning over slightly to peruse the titles of the articles visible on the periodical tossed there carelessly. "Anything interesting?"

"Yeah actually." The long-haired man reenters the living room, a crooked grin gracing his face. "I was wondering - were you planning on bringing me flowers any time soon?"

Body momentarily frozen along with his mind, intense blue eyes snap up to take in his friend. "Excuse me?"

"OK maybe not flowers. Chocolate then? I do kind'a like chocolate."

Shaking his head to dislodge the strange images, Heero straightens up. "Duo, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well isn't that the norm? That you should give me gifts? Though if I were completely honest, I'd prefer it if you brought me something a little more manly, like, oh I don't know, uh. . ." Suddenly holding up an enthusiastic index finger, he approaches the slightly disordered desk in the corner and absently begins shuffling papers. "Aha!" Producing a crinkled, gold-foil, trapezoidal paper, he grins at his friend, "25 year-old, single malt Scotch, aged in oak barrels, bottled in. . ." He studies the label briefly.

"Scotland, most likely."

"Yeah, wherever." Duo flashes the shiny paper at his friend with an encouraging smile. "So what'd'ya say, Heero?"

Perplexed at the strange turn this particular morning's exchange has taken, the presumed gift-giver leans a hip against the sofa and crosses his arms. "Honestly? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure I'm following this conversation. Did I miss something?"

Indicating the newspaper on the sofa, Duo crosses to the kitchen, "Check out the spread on 8 and 9".

Heero picks up the paper and seeks out the article responsible for their bizarre dialogue. And reads. To his growing horror. "What the hell?"

"Yup! That's what I said." Duo appears at his shoulder, pointing out one of the more. . . enlightening captions accompanying a cluster of pictures below the article. "You holdin' out on me, man?"

"Since when do you read tabloids?"

"As if! This ain't no tabloid, pal, it's the Daily Voice."

Ignoring the slap to his rear end, Heero continues to scan the article as Duo crosses the room still searching for something. Out loud, Heero reads: "'Close friends of the Minister, and former war heroes, Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell were again caught in an alarmingly intimate situation. These latest photos show the pair entering and leaving a bar at the local air strip last week. Rumors continue to circulate that Yuy, 19, often linked romantically with the former Princess of Sanq, is actually involved with his war-time comrade and current co-worker on the Minister's staff, Maxwell, also 19.' Where do they come up with this shit? They're the ones linking and spreading rumors. And since when is it illegal to go to a bar with your friends?"

Finally ready to go, Duo returns to his friend's side, leaning back against the couch. "Oh it gets better than that, look here. Eh, 'Witnesses of the. . .', no, no. Here, this is the one I really liked. 'Other patrons present during the pair's most recent clandestine rendezvous say that Maxwell and Yuy sat closely, whispering and gazing lovingly at each other whenever they thought no one was looking.' Good one, huh?"

"Of course it would sound like we were whispering. We were in a privacy booth!"

"Yeah, and those stupid booths at the airstrip are barely big enough to fit two people. No shit we were sitting so close."

Glaring more closely at another grainy snapshot, "Is this supposed 'Romantic Seaside Getaway' a picture of us having lunch during that security check we ran for Relena's vacation?"

"I think so, but I couldn't really tell from the angle." Peering over Heero's shoulder once more, Duo points at an object in the image in question. "All you can see, aside from the two of us and the back of this girl in a bikini, is what I think is that humongous parrot that was hanging by the register." After a short pause, he grimaces, "You do realize that guy from Oversight's gonna pay us a visit today, right?"

Dropping both his head and the paper, Heero hisses an 'oh hell' with a grimace, but a sudden thought has him perking up almost instantly. "Hey, can't we arrange to be on an inspection all day or something?"

Duo pats him on the back placating, "Yeah. Nice try, Heero, but you know she's not gonna let us run away. If I know our boss, she'll have us huddled all morning with the girl from PR to plan how we're going to fend off the inevitable round of questions and committee meetings."

"But we haven't done anything wrong! We've followed the letter of our contracts for more than three years: No missed quarterly evaluations. No more than three of us together without prior written authorization. No unplanned absences. No unauthorized travel. No-"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Holding up a hand to deflect a full accounting of the laundry list of criteria they had agreed to – and not violated – Duo interrupts, "Look, man, I totally get that, but it isn't going away this time. This is the third article in the last two months, and this is – by far – the biggest and the most blatant. At least the last two only insinuated something; this one flat out states it."

A stress-crease makes an appearance between Heero's brows. The corner of his mouth twitching toward pursed. "Can they really do this to us, without-" he shakes the paper in frustration, "without consequence?"

"Didn't notice the Sidebar, did you?" At the slight indication of a negative, Duo points, "Page 9, bottom right corner."

Eyes scanning the indicated text, Heero mumbles a few key words. "Mustafa Hassani. Dereliction of duty. Jean Toussaint. Prior arrest record. Wyatt Clarity. Misappropriation. That's the guy who was just fired for submitting expense vouchers to pay for prostitutes!" Looking up he spears his friend with a curious glance, "What does all this have to do with us? And this Hassani man hasn't worked for the Foreign Office in more than a year. Hell, he never even worked for her directly."

"That's the whole point, Heero! It's obvious they've just been waiting for an excuse to print this article. I mean, let's just forget about the fact we were only in that damned booth for half an hour and that they've completely skipped the part where we made a phone call which lasted 20 minutes of that. But we can't claim they're picking on us if they've included all this other information. Sure, it doesn't even take up a tenth of the spread, but by including it they can pass it off as an expose on – aw hell, I don't know – misconduct maybe? Look at the title: 'All the Minister's Men – Mischief in the Bastion of Peace?'

"This is just wrong."

"Yeah, I know," Duo agrees grudgingly, "but there's nothing we can do about it. And some of these pictures are really old. Did you notice what I'm wearing in the one where you're holding the door open for me?"

Heero studies the image carefully before venturing, "Hilde's sweater?"

"Yeah, the one she gave me that one Christmas."

"So?"

"So I hate that thing. I've only ever worn it that one time so she'd see it. Remember when we met up with her for dinner in the hotel during that conference she attended here?" He points at the picture again, "That was February, two years ago."

"Damn!"

"Yep." Finally having had enough, he plucks the paper from Heero's hands and tosses it back on the sofa. Without giving the article, or its inflammatory headline a last look, he turns for the front door. "Come on. Let's go make some more news over our morning coffee. Just think, only sixteen more months of this shit and our servitude is over. Although. . . Remind me, again, why we thought this would be the better option?"

Giving him a lopsided grin, Heero sighs in remembrance. "Because being forced to live in this contrived situation was better than living with overseers we didn't know or being stuck in a school dormitory with 300 immature teenagers whom we'd have nothing in common with. Suffering curfews, uniforms, tests and gym shorts were not an appealing option to be dealing with for five years."

"Riiiight! So. Onward into the evil outside world and the dangers of the yellow press? What d'ya say we celebrate our celebrity after work today with a little-" He never finishes that thought. Shoulders suddenly pinned to the wall by an iron grip, Heero's face hovers just inches away. "Eh, Heero?"

Without a word, Heero's mouth descends over his, tongue pressing for advantage and air in short supply. When all is said and done, he finds himself relieved of his keys and struggling to remain upright on wobbly legs.

"Uh, OK. . . " Licking his lips, Duo raises an eyebrow. "That was. . . unexpected."

"Unwelcomed?" Comes the whispered query; serious eyes locking on for an honest answer.

Features softening in response, Duo lets out a sigh. "Not entirely, no. And you should know that. But if you'll recall, you were the one who told me you couldn't freely give-"

"That which I didn't freely control." Sadness creeps in with the repetition. "We did agree to put this – any of this – off until we were free."

"Bingo." Raising a hand, though, Duo lightly runs fingertips along the crest of a brow, down the curve of a cheek. "So why now?"

"Those pictures. The article." Heero pauses, trying to pin down precisely what spurred him on, "I wouldn't have cared if the whole universe knew – if they found out - when it happened, I just don't like being taken advantage of. I guess I didn't want you to think I was objecting to it on principle." He shrugs, a little confused by his own impetuousness. "Maybe I just wanted to remind you."

Huffing a laugh Duo leans in to capture Heero's lips briefly, offering a reassurance in kind. "Consider me duly reminded, then. And a little surprised. But definitely on the side of pleased."

After a moment of running his lower lip under his teeth and staring intently at his partner, Heero cocks a brow and grins. "You know, if we're going to have to suffer through questions about the nature of our relationship and sit in boring meetings with idiots who think that they truly do own our lives, we might as well be recompensed." Answered only by a questioning look, he further explains as he pulls the door open. "Weren't you wanting me to give you something? Consider yourself 'gifted'. That was a little better than chocolate or flowers, right?"

Grin now securely back in place, Duo steps outside, countering with: "If you think that one gift will suffice, you've got another thing coming, mister. Just wait 'til we get back later."

Locking the door behind him, Heero quick-steps to catch up. "You mean we're not chocking this one up to a momentary lapse of reason?"

Laughing quietly as he approaches their shared vehicle, Duo shoots Heero a lopsided smirk over the hood. "Not again, buddy. Last time I started it and you're the one who put a halt to it. Not so this time. Don't think you can start shit with me and not finish it. I've waited nearly three years for you to come to your senses. I keep trying to tell you, Heero: Anyone can give you rules to live by, but nobody owns you. And-"

"And only I can decide what to give my life for." Heero completes the litany he's often heard while pulling out of their designated space. Then amends it with a soft smile, "Or to whom."

It earns him a smile in return. "Correct-o-mundo!"

As they pull up to the security gate of their complex, Duo snaps his fingers at an afterthought. "But I still reserve the right to express an opinion on that last topic."

"I'll give you that," Heero acquiesces. "And since you hold a vested interest, I think I can live with that."

"Good." After waving at the camera that was recording the date and time of their latest departure, Duo drops his hand to cover Heero's on the gear shift. "Good. I think I can, too."

Fini.

BM_080608


End file.
